


A World That Could Have Been

by SoWrongButSoWrite (CinnaStarks)



Series: Inquisitor Izuna [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Angst, Blood Magic, Character Death, F/M, Red Templar AU, Red Templars, Tragedy, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnaStarks/pseuds/SoWrongButSoWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen does not go with Cassandra. Clan Lavellan's First does not go to the Conclave. The result bleeds crimson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A World That Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Izuna does not have to be THE Lavellan in this fic. I specifically left her name out to make it open to anyone's Lavellan.

It’s over.

Her clan is gone, lost to the beasts of red and silverite. She takes what little pride there is to be found in the beasts’ loss of nearly every soldier to her crimson sacrifice. Before the world ended, she would have sooner become tranquil than use blood magic. How things change. How people die.

A wild rose bush has become her final resting place. What once killed men twice her size now trickles from where thorns meet flesh. Even the weakest fire spell could free her, but the body can only take so much bloodshed. She remembers the warnings her clan would shout before being silenced by another spurt, another splatter of a promise that could not be kept.

Only one beast still searches for her amongst the piles of bodies that line the edges of camp. He stumbles around, hindered by the arrows that managed to pass through his armor’s cracks.

Her heart, as slow as it beats now, falters when she catches a glimpse of his face. This beast is not wearing a helmet and his face, despite the red crystals that jut from his skull and veins that streak across his pale flesh. He looks almost human.

Time slows and, for the first time since Deshanna died, the Keeper’s mind wanders away from her clan. She wonders what color his irises were before they turned to stone and what birthmarks those crystals erased. There is a tingling in her fingers as she stares at his matted, yellow hair. She imagines herself running them through the golden locks that could have been. His lips, healthier in her mind, spread into a crooked smile as she moves her way down to his collarbo-

He sees her.                                                                                                                                      

Reality brands her with a hot iron, forcing the Keeper out of her reverie and into a dying world. His blade flashes in the setting sun. He rushes towards her.  _Please, just end it now._ The Keeper begs deities she knows will not listen.  _Make it painless._

But death does not come, only her release from the roses’ grasp as the man tears them away. She cannot protest when he takes her limp body into his arms. Tired eyes open just wide enough to process the sorrow he manages to convey through the shards and streaks of red.

“Forgive me.” He rasps. “Please.”

Hazel.

There is a thin ring of hazel around his irises.

“I do.”

Her last thought is of the man with hazel eyes, golden hair, and a life that could have been.

* * *

Knight Captain Cullen dies with a bolt to his spine.

“Damn it, Curly.” Varric’s voice sits barely above a whisper. His heart sinks as he approaches the dead Templar. Cullen had a heart, Varric knew that from the moment he saved Hawke’s life, but the Blight had twisted it into something unrecognizable. “If you had only listened to Seeker, maybe-“ Another corpse stops his words dead in their tracks.

“Is he-“

“They were the last ones left.” The peaceful smile that stretches across the elf’s face makes Varric sick to his stomach. “He cut her from those bushes and made sure she died comfortably.” A shaking sigh passes between his lips. “I couldn’t write a better ending.”

Cassandra’s expression looks as if it might crack when she kneels beside the elven woman. Gloved fingertips close what Varric hopes were once as bright as the stars that shine above them. “If he had just said yes, then maybe-“ Her voice hitches. “-maybe we could have saved them both.”

“And maybe we did.” She does not flinch when his hand touches her shoulder. “Not in this world, but in another edition of it. This could just be the first draft of the Maker’s next bestseller.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

Varric shrugs. “I know, but I’d like to think He’d have better taste in endings than I do.”


End file.
